


You Can Keep the Necklace that I Gave to You; I'll Keep the Sh*tty Tattoos

by relised



Series: RIP; You & Me [5]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Black Out, Hospital, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Mental Institutions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-21
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-11-01 13:50:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17868443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/relised/pseuds/relised
Summary: Billy could never have nice things. That's what his dad had always told him, ever since he was a kid and would break a toy or tear up a book when he didn't get his way. He had gotten into countless fights after his mom died, trying to prove that he was enough. Trying to prove that he was more than just the boy who's mom had died and who's dad smacked him around.Billy also had a tendency to get too attached too soon. To his possessions, like the Camaro, his leather jacket, the silver lighter that he had stolen from the corner store back in San Diego. And to people. People who never stuck around.***Once again Billy breaks everything he touches, leaving him and Steve trying to figure out what happens next.





	You Can Keep the Necklace that I Gave to You; I'll Keep the Sh*tty Tattoos

  
With every punch Billy landed against Steve's body, he could see the light hit the gold chain hanging around the older boy's neck. He tried to ignore the pathetic whimpers escaping Steve's mouth as he continued to fight.

"After everything I did for you. I'm not enough to get clean for, huh? Think I'm going to go chasing after you all the fucking time," Billy grunted and as he landed a punch against Steve's jaw he could feel it break beneath his fist. Steve had stopped fighting back and Billy wasn't entirely sure he was still conscious. He fisted his hand into Steve's shirt, pulling him upright to get a better angle. As he did so, his mother's charm slid from where it had been laying on Steve's collar bone down to his chest. Just looking at it made Billy hesitate, his mind going back to the night he had given it to Steve.

_It had been January, shortly after New Year's Day and the bruising around Steve's neck had finally started to fade. Billy had skipped basketball practice, using the excuse of a lingering headache left from his Christmas Eve concussion and had been napping fitfully on the bed when Steve came home._

_"Hi baby," Steve whispered as he crawled on the bed behind Billy, resting his head on the blondes shoulder._

_"Hi," Billy whispered back, trying to stifle a yawn as he leaned back into to Steve's arms. "How was practice?"_

_"Coach got mad at Tommy and let the rest of us go early so he could focus on Tommy running suicides." Steve answered, pressing a kiss to the base of Billy's neck._

_"That's amazing," Billy said with grin, glancing at the clock next to the bed. He frowned when he saw that it was almost nine o'clock. "Where did you go after practice? It's late."_

_"Uh, Hopper wanted to talk to me about...About what happened. With Dustin and stuff..." Billy grunted as he rolled over so he was facing Steve, their foreheads touching._

" _Did he yell at your again?" Billy asked, reaching up to brush a piece of hair off Steve's forehead._

_"Surprisingly, no. He offered to help me 'kick my habit' if I needed it. I told him I'd be fine..." He reached up to wrap his fingers around the medallion hanging from Billy's neck. "He...he also wanted to talk about the bruises."_

_Billy froze, his eyes wide as he studied Steve's face. Steve leaned forward to press a kiss to Billy's forehead. Billy swallowed thickly a few times before he cleared his throat. "What...what did he think?"_

_"He asked me if you were hurting me. I told him of course not. I just said we were trying to be uh...To be adventurous in bed but I didn't realize that I bruised so easy. I told him that'd we'd be more careful." Billy let out a sigh of relief and leaned forward to pull Steve into a kiss. Steve chewed on Billy's lower lip as he continued to play with the medallion._

_"You know I'd never hurt you on purpose, baby," Billy whispered against Steve's lips and the brunette hummed in agreement. "I love you."_

_"I know, baby. I love you, too." They kissed for a few more moments before Steve pulled back, studying Billy's necklace. "Who is this on here?"_

_"Uh, Saint Christopher? He's the Patron Saint of Protection. My ma gave me it before she died. It was my grandpa's before she got it and he apparently wore it in World War II. He was at the Battle of the Bulge."_

" _That's really sweet that she passed that on to you." Steve said quietly, tracing his index finger along the chain. "I don't think I have anything from my grandparents."_

_"She never took it off if she could help it. Wore it through chemo and everything. She gave it to me the day she went into hospice. I...I always kind of wondered if she had a feeling about what Dad would do to me when she was gone. Like she thought if she gave me this it'd keep me safe..."_

_"Well yeah," Steve said with a small smile. "You were always going to be her baby even if she wasn't here." Billy matched his smile, studying Steve's face. He pushed himself to a half sitting position so he could pull the chain over his head. "What are you doing?"_

_"I want you to wear it," Billy said, undoing to clasp so he could put it on Steve. "I want it to keep you safe." Steve blushed as Billy pressed a kiss to the medallion before letting it hang down his chest. "See, it looks good on you."_

_"Thank you," Steve whispered, pulling the medallion out so he could look down at it._

_"Imma always going to keep you safe, baby," Billy whispered as he pressed a kiss to Steve's temple, holding him close._

It seemed ironic, now, that he had really meant to keep Steve safe. That he had given the brunette his mother's medallion because he wanted to save the boy from himself. And here they were, once again with Steve unconscious under Billy's body.

That day in January hadn't been the only time Hopper had asked Steve if Billy was hurting him. Even when the chief had been visibly angry about how much Steve had been using, he was still always questioning the bruises Steve had. And even though the chief liked Billy, even cared for him like his own kid, Steve had been Hopper's 'kid' first. The man had pulled Steve aside many times to ask about the random marks that appeared on his body, frowning when Steve would tell him he tripped during a drunken stupor.

And it wasn't like Billy couldn't understand why the chief would be suspicious, especially after what had happened that night at the Byers'. He knew he had an angry streak. He knew that he a hairpin trigger. But he didn't want to hurt Steve, not anymore. He hadn't wanted to start a fight after coming home from his dad pushing him around in broad daylight. Billy hadn't meant to say all those things about Steve being a junkie and the likelihood of him overdosing at any time. But that's how Billy always seemed to respond to not being in control. And he didn't know how to comeback from that once he got started.

Someone was ringing the doorbell and he could vaguely hear someone yelling through his heartbeat ringing in his ears. As Billy landed a punch to Steve's collar bone, he felt the joint slide out of place and he could vaguely remember the boy telling him about the number of times he'd dislocated his shoulder before. Steve whimpered under his hands, his head lulling from one side to the other.

"Billy? Steve?" A gruff voice called from the other side of the front door, the doorbell ringing over and over again. "Boys? It's Hopper. Let me in."

Billy let out a manic laugh as he caught Steve by his shirt and shook him slightly. "Don't you get it?" He yelled, not really sure what he needed Steve to get. That Billy had given up so much for him? That Neil was always one step behind, that he could kill them at any time? That his dad could make it look like an accident and that moving across time wasn't going to change anything? That Billy needed Steve to love him enough to get clean?

"Billy?" An airy voice called and he was vaguely aware that Hopper had Joyce with him. Joyce treated him like she was one of her own. She had spent days over the past six months trying to convince him that he wasn't like his dad, that he wasn't a total fuck-up. He idly thought ' _she's going to be so disappointed when she gets in here'_ as he let go of Steve's shirt and let the brunette fall the short distance back to the ground.

"Boys, Hank down at the hardware store called and said he saw Neil roughing up his kid. I just want to make sure everything's okay," Hopper called. And then the door opened, Joyce finally remembering the spare key hidden in the flower pot on the edge of the Harrington's porch.

"Oh, Billy!" Joyce moaned, her hand coming to cover her horrified face as she watched Billy land another punch. Blood showered across the kitchen as he pulled his fist back.

"Fuck," Hopper hissed, launching forward, tackling Billy off of Steve as the blonde started crying. "Stay still, kid. Come on, stay still," he growled as he wrestled Billy's hand's behind his back and fastened his handcuffs around the boy's wrists.

"It's bullshit!" Billy sobbed, trying and failing to wiggle his way out from under Hopper's bigger frame. "Don't you get it?"

Hopper sighed as he continued to pin Billy to the floor, the boys sobs filling the air as Joyce gently tried to roll Steve on his side. He pulled his radio from his belt. "Powell, you hear me? Come in, Powell."

"I'm here, Chief," a voice called over the channel and Hopper sighed again.

"I need you to get an ambulance over to the Harrington's place. And prepare the holding cell for the Hargrove boy."

***  
Billy could never have nice things. That's what his dad had always told him, ever since he was a kid and would break a toy or tear up a book when he didn't get his way. He had gotten into countless fights after his mom died, trying to prove that he was enough. Trying to prove that he was more than just the boy who's mom had died and who's dad smacked him around.

Billy also had a tendency to get too attached too soon. To his possessions, like the Camaro, his leather jacket, the silver lighter that he had stolen from the corner store back in San Diego. And to people; his best friend Matt, who had left Billy behind in the eighth grade when he joined the football team. His first "girlfriend" Grace who he wasn't overly attracted too but didn't want anyone else to have. Josh, the boy who had loved him until Neil chased him off with a knife and a threat of death. Even Max and her little gang of nerds after they came to an understanding following the upside down.

And now Steve. Steven Gregory Harrington who Billy couldn't imagine being without because the brunette saw him and loved him just the same. In the short time they'd been together, Billy would give anything to keep Steve happy and to keep him around. He would do anything to convince Steve how much he loved him. This had involved supplying Steve's coke stash. Spending time with those bratty kids as they fought over Dungeon's and Dragons. Wearing Steve's clothes in a silent way of saying he was Steve's while at the same time joking with the guys at school that they must have gotten their laundry mixed up. And then the tattoos.

" _Are you sure you want to permanently ink this to your body?" Steve asked, a small grin as he looked down at the sketch Billy had handed him once they had gotten into the car. A perfect replica of Steve's nail bat was swinging toward the partially open face of a Demodog, small drops of spit and blood escaping the creatures face. In the grain of the bat was Steve's initials, small enough to look like they're just another swirl._

_"Of course I'm sure. One of those things mangled my leg," Billy said, shooting a shark-like grin at Steve. "And if I have the bat, I'll always have a piece of you on me." He reached out to squeeze Steve's knee as the boy blushed._

_"You are insane," Steve laughed, absently tracing his fingers over the nails in the small bat. "But this drawing is amazing, I can't believe you drew it yourself."_

_"I'll draw you anytime you want," Billy said with a wink as he pulled into the tattoo parlor's parking lot. He laid on the bed as the artist inked the drawing onto his right pectoral, grinning lazily as Steve talked animatedly to the one of the other tattoo artists that wasn't working. This was the kind of pain Billy could handle, the kind he chose for himself. Every once and a while, Steve would turn to look at him, watching intently as the monster came to life on Billy's chest._

_"Where'd you come up with some Sci-Fi shit like this, man?" Travis, the bald tattoo artist, asked as he wiped at Billy's chest._

_"My sister's group of friends," Billy said with a grin, meeting Steve's eyes as the brunette snorted at the response. "They've got overactive imaginations. This one sounded cool, though."_

_Hopper was waiting for them when they left the parlor, Steve reading through a a pamphlet on after care while Billy prodded lightly at the plastic covering his new tattoo. The Chief had stood leaning against the Camaro, looking at the boy's with a raised eyebrow as they moved closer._

_"Boy's," he said, nodding his head at them. Hopper stood up straight, reaching into his pocket to pull out his wallet. "Steve, why don't you run across to the diner to get take-out for you two on me. I just need to talk to Billy for a second." Steve looked between Hopper and Billy, hesitating slightly until Billy gave him a strained smile and a nod._

_"Um, sure. Thanks, Hop," he stammered, taking the money before crossing the street, continuing to look over his shoulder at the pair. Hopper waited until the diner door had swung shut._

" _I want to talk to you about Steve," Hopper said, leaning back on the Camaro with his arms crossed across his chest. Billy moved to cross his own arms across his chest to match the stance, but flinched at his sore chest from the new tattoo and let his arms fall to his side._

_"Sure, what about him?" Billy said, tipping his head back just slightly._

_"I know I said I support your relationship..." Hopper started, raising a hand to stop Billy when the blonde looked like he was going to yell. "I do support you boys. But...Joyce and I are...worried."_

_"Worried about what?" Billy said, his spine ramrod straight as he squinted at the chief._

_"Do you think that this all might be moving a bit fast, Billy? You two were at each other's throats at Halloween and now...I just don't want either of you getting too attached and then getting hurt."_

_"We're not too attached to each other," Billy spit out, rolling his eyes as he dug in his pocket for his cigarettes._

_"I just saw you coming from the tattoo parlor," Hopper said with a brow raised. "You gonna tell me that whatever you got, which I'm going to be having a talk with them about tattoo an underage kid. But you're gonna tell me that whatever you got doesn't relate to Steve in one way or another?" Billy flinched, resting his hand over the new ink on his chest._

_"I mean, it has more to do about the Upside Down than Steve," Billy mumbled, not meeting Hopper's eyes._

_"That's permanent, Billy," Hopper sighed, shaking his head like Billy was a petulant child._

_"No shit? Why didn't anyone tell me," Billy spit sarcastically, sucking hard on his cigarette._

_"I also wanted to talk about the bruises," Hopper said, throwing a glance at the diner to make sure Steve wasn't on his way back. Billy froze, not looking up to meet Hopper's eyes. "He always tells me that they're accidents. That you two are switching it up in the bedroom or that he ran into something while he was high. But Billy, most of those bruises look human made. And you and I both know you have a temper."_

_"I would never hurt him," Billy yelled, pointing his finger at Hopper, the cigarette clinched between his index and middle finger. "I would never hurt him, not on purpose. Never again."_

_"I know you think you wouldn't hurt him," Hopper said, holding his hands up like he was approaching a scared animal. "And I think you would never purposely set out to hurt him. But the thing is, Billy, with a temper like yours, how do you know you're not going to snap? How do you know something isn't going to set you off that's going to leave Steve all messed up again. Because I don't think those bruises are from Steve being clumsy. You may not mean it, but I think it's happening." Billy glared at Hopper, only looking away when he could hear the bells above the diner door ring and Steve's steps coming across the road._

_"I'm not trying to be a dick, kid," Hopper said, moving closer to Billy with his hands raised again. "I just want to make sure you kids are being safe. And Billy, if you ever want someone to talk to, you can talk to me. If you feel like you're on the edge of lashing out, talk to me. Even if I think you kids are moving too fast, I don't want you to put yourself in the position to lose it all."_

_Billy had huffed, throwing the wasted butt to the ground and grinding it under his boot._

_"Whatever," Billy grunted, standing with his hands on his hips. "Are you going to get away from my car, or are we walking home?" Hopper had sighed, pushing himself away from the Camaro and slowly making his way back across the street to his truck._

_"Just think about it, Billy. And talk to me if you need to."_

_"What was that about?" Steve asked as he slid into the passenger seat, balancing the take out bag on his lap as he tried to pull on his seat belt._

_"Just your friendly neighborhood pig sticking his nose where it doesn't belong," Billy had grunted, shifting into gear and speeding away down the main street._

The EMT's worked swiftly, slipping a neck brace around Steve's neck to keep it stabilized until they reached the hospital to ensure there was no damage. As they pulled him onto the gurney, Steve started to cough, chocking on the blood rolling down the back of his throat.

"You're okay, sweetie," the older woman said, gently prying his mouth open to stick gauze into his gum lines to soak up the blood. The younger man cut Steve's shirt away, pressing lightly at his veins to find a place to stick an IV. Small whimpering sounds escaped the boy on the gurney, not entirely regaining consciousness. "I know sweetheart, we're gonna give you something for all that pain."

"Wait!" Joyce said suddenly, causing the EMT's to freeze and look at her with raised eyebrows. "He...He has a drug abuse history," she explain slowly, trying to pick her words. "We weren't here earlier so I don't know what he's taken today or how much. We've been trying to work on getting him clean, but it's been futile."

"Do you know what he's taken in the past?" The man asked, pulling the clipboard closer to him.

"Cocaine, mostly," Joyce said, standing at the head of the gurney and gently pushing the hair off of Steve's forehead. "From what I've heard, he's used Xanax and Vicodin as well. Pretty much anything he could get his hands on." The EMT nodded, documenting what she had told him.

"I'm just going to give him something light that shouldn't react with those. They'll test him once we get him to the hospital to make sure before they give him anything else." Joyce stood back, watching as one of the EMT's stabilized Steve's shoulder that hung limply from his body and the other continued to hook him up to an IV and a heart monitor. She kept glancing over at Jim and Billy, her heart breaking as she watched the older man try to talk to a hysterical Billy.

"I didn't mean to. I didn't mean to. I didn't mean to," Billy mumbled as he rocked back and forth where Hopper had sat him up against the Kitchen counter, his hands cuffed behind his back. He chocked on a sob, snot running down his face as he stared down at his feet.

"I know you didn't kid. I know," Hopper said quietly where he had crouched down next to the teen. Hopper squeezed Billy's knee, trying to push all the comforting words he could into the scared blonde. He kept glancing over at Joyce, the adults sharing an anguished look before returning to their respective teenager. "As soon as they take care of Steve we'll head downtown and figure somethings out."

"I didn't mean to! I didn't want to hurt him!" Billy choked out, wet, red rimmed blue eyes looked up into the chief's, trying to make the man understand.

"I know, Billy. But you did, and now we've got a lot of things to figure out."

"Sorry, Chief," the older EMT called. "We're going to get him to Hawkins General. You okay with Joyce here riding with him?"

"I was actually going to suggest that," Hopper said, his knees popping as he rose from his crouch. He rubbed a hand over his face as he stepped away from the sobbing Billy, stopping by the edge of the gurney. He squeezed Steve's free wrist slightly. "You're gonna be okay, kid. It's all going to be okay," he said to the unconscious body on the bed.

"I'll call you once we know more at the hospital," Joyce said quietly, going up on her tippy toes to press a kiss to Hopper's cheek.

"I'm probably going to be tied up, so if you have to just tell Florence and she'll pass on the message. I'll get to the hospital as soon as I can," Hopper said quietly, pushing the hair out of Joyce's eyes. She smiled sadly, as they started to load Steve into the back of the ambulance. Even though these weren't their kids, they felt responsible for making sure everything was okay for them. She could only think that she'd done okay by Johnathon, that her and Jim should be able to do it again with these pseudo kids they had pulled into their family. She gave Jim one last sad smile as she followed the EMT's out of the kitchen.

"Everything's going to be okay, Billy," she called gently before letting the door close behind her. Hopper turned to look down at the crumbled heap below him. With a sigh, Hopper, grabbed both of Billy's elbows to pull him to standing.

"Okay, kid," he said as he lead Billy out of the house and into the truck. "Let's see what we can figure out."

***

Billy stared at his feet in the cell as the gate opened, his hands still cuffed behind his back. His eyes were ringed red from the hours of sobbing he had done, his nose uncomfortably congested. He locked his eyes on the pair of boots that came into his view, not lifting his head.

"Hey kid," Hopper said, his knees popping as he crouched in front of Billy. "I made some calls, got some stuff figured out."

"Where's Steve?" Billy whispered, still not looking up.

"He's still at the hospital waiting for the doctors to look at him. Joyce is with him. You...you roughed him up pretty bad."

"I didn't mean to!" Billy said, jerking up, handcuffs digging into his wrists. "I didn't want to hurt him! I don't know...I don't know what happened..."

"I know you didn't. I know, Billy. That's why I've spent the past hour making calls."

"They sending me upstate? How long?" Billy asked, rolling his shoulders and letting his head fall back on the cinder block wall.

"No, not upstate. This losing control isn't normal, Billy. And I think there's something in you that's triggering this and that it's only going to lead to people getting hurt. I know that. Steve knows that. Hell, the kids know that. And I think you know that. I've been on the phone with the DA and the judge since we got here. I explained the situation, your background, the circumstances and I got them to agree to a deal; you spend a minimum of two weeks at Hawkins Psychiatric. You work with the psychiatrist, you take any medications they prescribe, you cooperate, and they'll drop all charges."

"No," Billy growled out, his blue eyes flashing as he glared at the chief. "I'd rather go to fucking prison."

"Well, Billy, being 17 that's not your choice." Hopper pulled Billy to his feet as two EMT's rolled a gurney into the hall outside the holding cell. The chief slipped the key into the handcuffs, dropping them on the bench as he slid his arm under Billy's struggling limbs and squeezing tight. "I know you're not going to like it, but this is for the best. You'll see, someday."

Hopper frog marched Billy to the gurney, manhandling him onto the bed and pinning him with a bruising grip on his biceps. One of the EMTs stepped forward, slipping padded white restraints onto his wrists and pulling them tight. He tried to buck as the woman pulled a seat belt across his calves and thighs. Hopper tightened his grips on his arms, trying to ground Billy to the pain. He shook the boy slightly, forcing Billy to look at him.

"Let me go," Billy growled with a grunt as Hopper slammed him back into the bed. He pulled on the white restraints frantically, his heart pounding in his chest.

"Hey. Hey!" Hop said, keeping his hands on Billy's biceps even after the EMT wrapped another seat belt across the boy's chest and trapping his arms. "I know you're scared. But Billy, you need this. Because if you don't get help, the next time this happens you're going to kill him." Billy thrashed on the gurney, glaring at the man. "I want to help you, Billy. But you gotta let me. Just let me."

A million visions ran through Billy's head as Hopper pulled away. Images of Steve dead under his hands, images of one of the kids finding them, images of himself hurting one of those kids that had came to trust him so much. He met Hopper's eyes and nodded, just as a needle went into the meat of his arm.

Billy was transported to that night all those months ago when it had taken Max stabbing a needle into his neck to stop him from killing Steve. And wasn't that ironic, that the only way to keep people safe from Billy depended on a needle.

***

Steve woke up slowly, a steady beeping in his ears. He felt numb, not entirely sure where he was. But then he tried to move his head and everything came slamming back to him; the pain shooting through his head, the vision of Billy pinning him to the floor and beating his face in. Again. He couldn't stop the whimper that escaped his mouth as he slowly lifted his hand to his face. His neck was being held still in a heavy brace and his face throbbed with every heart beat.

"No, no. Don't touch it, sweetheart," a gentle voice said as cool hands wrapped around his wrist.

"Where...Where am I?" He slurred around the gauze in him gums.

"You're in the Emergency Room, Steve," the voice said again and Joyce Byers moved into his line of sight. "Do you remember what happened?"

"Billy...Where's Billy?" He said, his eyes squeezed shut. Joyce squeezed his wrist slightly.

"He's at the station with Hop. Don't worry about that. Just worry about you..." Joyce gently pushed his hair out of his face as she sat on the edge of his bed. "The doctors are pretty busy so we're just waiting for them to get to you. Are you in pain?" She gestured to the IV in his hand. "They can give you something stronger."

"I'm fine," Steve whispered. His coke high had faded from the lines he had snorted before Billy came home. Steve could vaguely feel the last of the Xanax he had taken to balance himself out. He wondered if they'd tested him when he came in, if the drugs in the IV could send him over the edge. As if reading his mind, Joyce squeezed his wrist again as she continued to brush the hair out of his face.

"I told them about the drugs," she whispered and Steve let out a shuddering sigh. "They're monitoring the interaction until it's all out of your system. It's okay if you need more."

"I don't want more drugs," Steve whispered, silent tears running down his face. "I just want...I just want Billy."

And then he cried. Sobbed through x-rays and cat scans and the doctors telling him his jaw was broke and he had a concussion but he probably didn't have brain damage. And then he stopped, because wasn't this his fault? He was the one that hadn't understood what Billy needed from him. He was the one who got higher and higher, even after he promised he'd get clean. He was the one who wasn't enough.

***  
Billy was only slightly lucid when they arrive at Hawkins Psychiatric. The EMT who had rode in the back with him gently undid the restraints after they had rolled him inside, slowly helping him off the gurney as his head spun. A nurse in a white uniform with a matching white hat took a step forward to wrap her hand around his upper arm to lead him into an intake room. She was almost a full head shorter than him, but he felt like she was the only thing holding him up.

"Let's sit you down before you fall down," the nurse said as she gently pressed him into a chair next to an exam table. "Go ahead and put your clothes in here, honey. You can change into these," she said, gesturing to a white t-shirt and a pair of pale blue scrub pants next to a small bin for him to put his things. "Your shoes, too. We'll get you some slippers. You can put your watch, and ring in this bag."

Billy's hand shot to his neck, thinking she hadn't noticed his necklace before remembering Steve still had it. He took a shuddering breath before doing as he was asked, the pants sitting low on his waist without the drawstring since he could use it to hurt himself. He sat perched on the edge of the chair, his head still swimming slightly as the nurse wrote in a new chart.

"My name is Jean, you'll be on my ward while you're here," she said, slipping an ID bracelet around his wrist. "I know this can be daunting, a new place against your will. But you work with us, Billy, and we can help you. You've just got to let us." Jean put his bin into a locked closet, slipping her ring of keys back into her pocket. "Now, let's get you checked in with Dr. Wilkins. He's going to be your lead psychiatrist here."

He followed her down the hall, the woman slowing her pace to walk next to him as he staggered down the hall with her. He sat curled in on himself on a chair in front of the doctor's desk, chewing on his lip as the man flipped through the paperwork the EMT's had brought from the station and murmured quietly to Jean. Finally, the dark hair man looked up at Billy, a reassuring smile.

"Hello, Mr. Hargrove. My name is Jackson Wilkins. I'm going to be in charge of your care while you're here. I understand that there was an altercation that lead to you being brought here."

"I d't mean to hurt 'em," Billy slurred, trying to shake the last of the sedative out of his head.

"I'm sure you didn't, William," the psychiatrist said.

"Billy," Billy corrected and the doctor gave him a small smile as he documented the boy's preferred name in the chart.

"Billy," the man said. "I'm sure you didn't mean to hurt your friend. But we're going to try to figure out why you have these reactions that are so violent. And we're going to try to give you other outlets of your aggression, something other than violence. Jean, our team and myself will try to make this as easy as we can on you, Billy. I know you didn't not chose to be here, but I'm hoping you'll let us help you."

Billy shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Jean's going to get you checked into your room and your just in time for dinner and night time medications. I'm going to start you on a low dose anti-psychotic-."

"I'm not crazy," Billy growled, glaring at the man.

"And I didn't say you were," Dr. Wilkins said with a small smile. "As I was saying, we'll start you on the anti-psychotic for now, just something to take the edge off until we can work out what's the best treatment for you. We'll also give you something to help you sleep at bed time. Tomorrow we'll start you on a therapy schedule. Throughout the week we'll have one on one sessions and group session almost daily. We also have a variety of art and music therapy, and yoga and meditation. You'll also be getting some anger management courses. We'll work together to help you the best we can. Do you have any questions for me?"

"When can I go home," Billy said, turning his gaze to look out the window to his right. The window was double pained with a layer of chicken wire between the two as if to prevent escape. Behind it, he could see the sky getting darker.

"You're here for a mandatory fourteen days, Billy," Dr. Wilkins said gently. "But if at the end of the fourteen days we don't feel you've improved enough or that you maybe still be a risk to yourself or others, we may have to keep you longer." Billy closed his eyes, squeezing his crossed arms closer to his chest as he tried to swallow down the prickle of tears he could feel coming. He cleared his throat, glancing up at doctor before looking down at his sock covered feet.

"Can I go to my room now?" He asked quietly.

"Of course," Dr. Wilkins said with a small smile, gesturing to Jean who had been sitting in a chair in the corner. "Get some rest, we'll get started first thing tomorrow morning." Billy sighed, following Jean down the hall to his new "home." He couldn't really be mad, he thought. He had done this time himself.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Did I stay over at work today to finish this? Maybe. I hope you like it! Comments are always appreciated. I hope to have the next part out a bit quicker!


End file.
